


The Last Gospel of Dean Winchester

by Lyoung_50



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Apocalypse, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Addiction, Drugged Sex, F/M, Life-Affirming Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:38:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyoung_50/pseuds/Lyoung_50
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a sad truth (but a truth all the same) that the closest Dean Winchester was ever going to get to religion ever again was in that moment. With the broken, tattered shell of a fallen angel on his knees in front of him, crystalline blue eyes hazed with the lingering smoke of his latest joint, and rosary beads cinched like a noose around his neck where Dean pulled them taut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Gospel of Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series of connected one-shots that follow Dean Winchester's spiral downward as leader of the Chitaqua camp. There will be mentions of Dean/Risa, and Castiel/Other characters, but at it's core, it is a Dean/Cas fic.

It was a sad truth (but a truth all the same) that the closest Dean Winchester was ever going to get to religion ever again was in that moment. With the broken, tattered shell of a fallen angel on his knees in front of him, crystalline blue eyes hazed with the lingering smoke of his latest joint, and rosary beads cinched like a noose around his neck where Dean pulled them taut. There's a look of utter desperation about the whole scene, if it was viewed from an outside perspective; This...scrambling need for contact, for each other, for some reminder of what once was.

But, Dean knows better. And Cas knows better. This isn't rememberance, this isn't desperation, and this isn't _them_. This is a way to try to brush off the fact that they'd buried two more of their own today. It is the result of Dean stumbing in to Cas' cabin after downing what was left of his whiskey stash, and demanding that the women who were crawling all over his angel get the _hell_ out of the cabin, because they had business to attend to. If he happened to not mention that the "business" involved him shoving Cas to his knees hard enough for the water-warped floor boards to leave bruises in the flesh of his knees, well that was no one's business but his own.

"Come for your weekly therapy session, oh, Fearless Leader?" Cas slurred as he looked up at Dean, a lazily smile playing on his already spit slicked lips. Dean curled one hand into a fist, convincing himself subconciously not to crack Cas right across the side of his smug face.

"Shut the fuck up, and do what you do. I don't got all day, man. Camp to run, apocalypse to handle." He growled out, his eyes burning with frustration. The drugs made Cas slow these days. And, there was no time for slow. Dean's hand twisted into Cas' overgrown hair and yanked his head forward, trying to ignore the yelp it drew from the other man.

"Your wish is my command." Cas quipped just before his lip closed over Dean's length. He bit back a groan, not wanting to betray how good it felt to have Cas like this. He moved his hips quickly, his hand in the other man's hair guiding him to meet the rough thrusts until he heard the faint choke on each instroke. It wasn't long before his hips stilled, and he was releasing. His hips moved slowly through the aftershocks of his release until he'd finished completely before allowing his length to slip from Cas' lips.

He was midway through pulling his jeans back up his thighs when Cas swallowed again with  a hum, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He watched as he shifted, tugging at the crotch of his own jeans.

"What, no returning the favor?" Dean scoffed, hooking his belt tightly.

"Yeah, right. Go have one of your fllock get you off. I got shit to do, Castiel." Cas visibly flinched at the sound of his name rolling off of Dean's tongue that way, and he stood, going for the absyinthe that was on his night stand.

"You barely ever call me Cas anymore, you know." He mumbled, lifting the glass bottle to his lips, and taking a few long swallows.

"That's 'cause you ain't Cas anymore. Cas wouldn't be sittin' in this friggen cabin, wasting away to nothin', and smokin' weed while the rest of the camp is out there working their asses off, and fighting for their lives. Cas would be _helping_ instead of figuring out where he was in his "orgy rotation chart". Cas wouldn't have let shit get this bad. Castiel was the asshole that sat back, and let the world go to the crapper if it was what was needed. So, you're more like Castiel then you are Cas." The absyinthe, weed, and whatever his mixture of pills was this week couldn't begin to hide the hurt on Cas' face, so Dean just turned his back and strode through the beaded door.

He'd stopped being able to deal with this new version of Cas a long time ago. It wasn't because he didn't like him anymore. No matter how bad things got, Cas was always going to be his best friend. His angel with no wings. But, that didn't mean that he didn't hate what he'd become. This smoked out, sex guru that he'd just left on the verge of tears in his cabin.

Dean was almost to his own cabin when Chuck finally caught up with him, that perpetually goofy look on his face, and ratty clipboard clutched in his hands.

"Dean! Dean, I need to, uh, talk to you." He puffed, apparently out of breath from running across the camp. Dean simply crossed his arms over his chest, and looked at him expectantly. When Chuck didn't continue, he gave a sigh.

"Sometime today would be nice, Chuck."

"Right! Okay, uh, I was looking over the inventory, and it seems that we're almost out of beans..." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with another huff.

"I thought that you said we would be good until the end of the month?"

"I thought we would, but then we allowed those two others to come in. I didn't account for the food consumption change. So, instead, we'll be out by the end of the week if we don't find more..."

"Okay...alright, I'll take Cas, and we'll go on a run. See what we can stir up at the stores in town." Chuck smiled broadly, and nodded.

"Awesome." Dean patted his shoulder, and brushed past him to enter the cabin. He didn't bother to supress the frustrated groan when he found Risa perched on his cot.

"What can I do for you?" He mumbled, crossing the floor to grab the bottle of whiskey he kept by the window.

"Let me guess...you were in Cas' cabin again weren't you?" She spat, standing with her arms crossed over her chest. Dean took a long drink before groaning, and turning to face her.

"What's it matter?" Risa gave a short snort, shaking her head.

"You are _unbelieveable_ , Dean."

"You're awfully hypocritical, you know. Don't think I ain't seeing you every time you come outta Richardson's cabin." He gave a vague gesture between the two of them. "We never said this was monogomous. Hell, we never even acknowledged that it was even happening until you started giving me shit about going to see Cas. What, you getting all jealous about that, now?" Risa glared, hard, her hand resting on the gun holster on her hip.

"I'm not jealous of Cas. I'm just saying that maybe you should get off your high horse, and actually admit that it's more then the casual blow job. Maybe that would get that figurative stick outta your ass." She was halfway out the front door before he'd managed to pick his jaw up off of the floor.

"There's nothing more then that between me and Cas! It's just stress relief. That's all sex is with anyone anymore, we both know that." Risa stopped, her face twisting up angrily as Dean glared back.

"Oh, really? Just stress relief, huh? Good to know that I'm the equivilant of the rubber ball on a desk. Screw you, Dean." The cabin door slammed behind her, and he heaved a sigh, flopping down on his cot, the whiskey bottle still in his hand.

"More then just a casual blow job, my ass." He mumbled, taking anther long drink, his eyelids drooping. He was _tired_. Tired of the apocalypse, tired of having to miss his brother, tired of watching Cas deteriorate. Just...tired.  It didn't take much longer before he finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.

x x x x x x x

Two days later found Dean crashing his way through the camp, getting things ready for his and Cas' supply run. The air was brisk enough for him to need his heavy canvas Army fatigue jacket, but not so cold that it was unbearable, yet. He wasn't looking forward to the winter, knowing that the camp would be submurged under a layer of snow, but it was coming nonetheless, and they needed to make sure that they were stocked up enough.

"Cas!" He barked out, walking past the ex-angel's cabin where he was seated on the porch steps, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "Get your ass in the Jeep, we've got a run to make." Cas stood without hesitation, pocketing the little wooden carving he'd been widdling away at with his pocket knife, and hopping into the passenger's seat. Dean jumped in the driver's seat, threw the Jeep in gear, and the two of them were tearing out of the camp, onto the road.

It took four and a half miles before Cas spoke.

"So, what are we looking for this time, boss?"

"The usual. Food, guns, medical supplies. You know this by now." Dean grunted, his eyes on the road, and his hand tight on the steering wheel. Cas nodded slowly, taking another drag off the cigarette before allowing the serpentine pillars of smoke to escape his lips.

"We going to check the usual spots, or are we venturing outside the Pride Lands?" Cas questioned, his head lolling lazily to look directly at Dean.

"You know, dumbass references like that are the reasons that I regret letting you watch The Lion King before the world went to hell." He shook his head.  "We're going somewhere new today." Cas kicked his muddy boots up onto the dashboard, leaning back in the seat as Dean wove his way through abandoned cars along the highway.

"Ooooh, new grounds. That's exciting. But, can I ask why I'm the only one here? Usually Risa is all to happy to follow you around like a little lost puppy." Dean was nearly certain that Cas could hear the way his teeth crack as he clenched them.

"Risa is sitting this one out, don't ask questions." He growled through his tight lips. Cas held his hands up in surrender.

"Lover's quarrel. I get it, say no more." Dropping his hands back down to his chest, he began humming some obscure tune that Dean was nearly certain had never been in a song ever, and tapping his feet against the windshield.

"God damn it, Cas, you're getting footprints on the glass." Cas let out a slurred giggle, pulling his feet away all the same.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I've got something that can take that edge off in my little bag o' wonders." He shook the suede leather pouch that attached to his belt, the sound of pills rattling filling the Jeep. "Just say that word."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, I've got pills for that too, if you need a little artificial assistance." Dean despised the lopsided smirk that Cas shot him. "You don't make it through four orgies a week without a little help, man. I'm sure it would even help out the Fearless Leader. Little more stamina, little less driving yourself down my throat and hightailing it the second you're done? Hm? Hmmmm?What'd'ya say?"

"I say that we're here, and you better get your shit together, 'cause I'm not saving your ass today. You are responsible for you. Clear?" Cas nodded, and the men hopped out of the Jeep, their weapons drawn as they converged on the tattered, weather torn shell of an old grocery store. The men pushed through the sliding door, checking the immediate area before Dean turned to Cas to issue the plan.

"Alright, you take the right side, get anything that you can find that we'll need. I'll take the left side, we'll meet back here in fifteen minutes." Cas gave a mock salute before sauntering down the right side of the store, a basket he'd swiped from the front door slung over his arm like he was going on a Sunday stroll through a farmer's market. Dean rolled his eyes and started down the other side, his gun still drawn.

He was halfway through the bare medical supplies shelves when he heard the first rumbled growl from the other side of the store, followed by a hoarse yell of surpise.

"Shit...Cas." He dropped what he'd gather and sprinted around the shelves, his weapon out in front of him. "Cas?! Where you at?!" The sound of hurried footsteps coming around the corner was all of the warning that he got before he had a armful of ex-angel.

"Right behind me, gotta _move_!" He yelled in Dean's face. Sure enough, there were three Croats hot on his heels, their gnarled fingers grabbing for him, while their blood stained teeth gnashed at the air.

"Fuck! C'mon, back to the Jeep!" The men started sprinting out of the store, dodging and jumping over items that had been strewn about. Dean was the first outside, throwing open the driver's side door and scrambling in. He almost had the door shut when he heard the scream of agony. His eyes snapped up to find Cas sprawled out on the parking lot, his foot clutched in his hands, and his face as pale as Dean had ever seen in it pain. He cursed under his breath, and raced over to him, firing shots into the three Croats. He knew that they didn't have long before the sound of gunfire drew others. "Fuck's sake, Cas, what'd you do?!"

"Foot...hurts..." He gasped, his eyes squeezed shut. When he finally managed to pull Cas' hand away from the injured foot, he sucked a breath through his clenched teeth. White bone poked through the side of his boot, clear as day.

"Damn...c'mon. I'll help you into the Jeep, and we'll get ya patched up back at camp." Dean helped Cas struggle to his good foot, and threw an arm around him so that he could keep all weight off of the other side. He situated him to lay in the backseat, and then hopped in to take off toward camp again, but, it wasn't long before Cas passed out from pain.

On the drive back to camp, the thought of how much of a burden someone with an injury like this would be to the camp made his stomach churn. It wasn't like Cas was out running a Habitat for Humanity campaign when it came to helping fix things around camp, but he did a few things here and there. Now, when (if) they were able to fix his foot, it would be months before he could prove useful to the group again.

He hated to admit it, but it was getting harder to make excuses to himself about why he needed to keep the man around. Maybe that was because he was out of excuses, and this was the wake up call that he needed to accept that maybe, just _maybe_ , Risa was right. Maybe there was something else rolling around in his brain for Cas. Or...maybe it was time to take care of the issue. He glanced at the gun strapped to his thigh, and then to the rearview mirror where he had a good view of Cas' unconcious form.

He couldn't do it. He'd wouldn't be able to be the one to put Cas down. Not now.


End file.
